


An Apple a Day Keeps the Karens Away

by xFireflyx



Category: Undertale
Genre: (Removed relationship tags for now, (because of Ink’s paints), (because of nearly everyone else), Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, I’ll add them as I go), M/M, Mostly Clean Stuff, My First Work in This Fandom, No Cursing, Not Canon Compliant, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, just for fun, sfw, will add warnings should they become necessary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xFireflyx/pseuds/xFireflyx
Summary: Peace finally reigns over the Multiverse, with Ink and his closest allies to help him maintain it. Everyone is happy... except for the “Bad Guys”. Shattered Dream hates it all, but what choice did he have? Following the perspectives of both sides, it’s a journey to find a true “happy ending” for everyone.Well, not everyone. Some people only set themselves up for defeat (including Karens). Shattered Dream finds that, maybe, this whole peace thing isn’t so bad if he can still torment customers with little respect. Dream tries to help everyone. Nightmare and Error hate everyone. And Ink is essentially an unwitting experiment. Come join the chaos!
Comments: 26
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fanfic on ao3, sorry if it’s really shoddy. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t on mobile. Anyway, I was inspired by a post where NM worked at McDonald’s and Shatter worked at Burger King (I’ll try to link it sometime) on Tumblr, but it became a lot more than that. It’s too late for me to turn back now. I’m too far in. Constructive criticism is appreciated, but I reckon that nobody has time for that. Honestly, I’m not even sure where this is going either, and it’s mostly personal headcanons. I’m just writing as I get ideas. (Pft, I was gonna proofread, but I’m too tired and lazy to care right now. Sorry for any typos or weird sentences, I’ll probably revise the chapter later)

Today was absolutely, utterly boring. It wasn’t that nothing had happened, no, it was simply that nothing engaging happened. The former Guardian of Positivity rested idly at his desk, tapping his fingers to no particular tune or pattern. Every time he touched the wooden surface, a small drop of black, inky slime would stick there. He theorized that he could easily paint a picture on the desk with this sometimes-irritating substance. With the amount of time on his hands, he supposed it would be a better way to pass the time than waiting in silence for someone to call upon him.

This was just a temporary arrangement, he’d been told. The board of directors were quick to assure him that a new job “better suited for someone like you” would be open soon. Lies. He could sense a negative aura from miles away, and theirs definitely qualified as negative. Perhaps more indifferent than malicious, but they knew what they were doing. The fools didn’t want to have him anywhere near a job that might see him in a public environment. He was just an unwanted mistake that tarnished the company’s reputation.

Shattered Dream liked to pretend that their opinions didn’t bother him. It did, but it wasn’t exactly their opinions that currently weighed on his mind. He hadn’t been able to think clearly since the new year began. That was when he learned about the alternate timelines. Sure, he had always heard and recognized that most Alternate Universes had alternate endings, but he never thought it applies to his world. There were timelines where his brother never ate a corrupted apple. Timelines where he became corrupted first. Timelines where both of them became corrupted at the same time. And currently, one other timeline had broken free from their own existence and now existed within the multiverse. It was a timeline where Dream never became corrupted. He was told they existed long before he did, but Shattered Dream didn’t believe that.

What bothered him most was the existence of another Nightmare. All that his brother had been through now doubled, and he couldn’t begin to imagine how his twin was feeling. Shatter was angry about this, more than anything. Nightmare deserved to feel understood! To feel avenged! And that... that alternate form of himself! He didn’t do anything to seek revenge? Nothing to see through his brother’s eyes? How could he be so detached from the only person in the world that ever mattered to him?

Shattered Dream glared are the surface he had gotten messy, feeling a new wave of frustration building up in his ribcage. He wanted to throw something really heavy at the wall. How dare anyone hurt his brother- even an alternate version of him?! Nightmare deserved all of the respect of the entire Multiverse, and he couldn’t even get that from his twin. Somehow, this inspired him to double his efforts in impressing his brother. He wanted him to see that, even though his original brother failed him, there was still a Dream that wanted to be there for him.

Of course, being involved in the Multiverse immediately came with consequences. He and his Nightmare figured out very quickly that the Multiverse itself had hundreds of counterparts of various out!codes, and there were quite a lot of rules that had to be followed to keep their realms from falling apart. Naturally, Shattered Dream was fully prepared to ignore the rules and do as he pleased. That didn’t go over well with the Multiversal Guardians. For one, Guardian Ink was a heck of a lot stronger than the Ink he once fought. Then there was that weird kid, Core Frisk. He didn’t understand it, but they were the only one that didn’t have at least one other copy of themself. The two forced him to settle in some universe outside of the Multiverse, just like they had with many other destructive nuisances. This world he now dwelled within was a common meeting place for any AU travelers, so he saw and familiarized himself with a lot of the most well known out!codes in the early days of his confinement.

With an irritable sigh, he wondered what his brother was doing now. His Nightmare was probably trying to befriend some of the locals and play it off like he wasn’t corrupted. A foolish notion, indeed. It would only lead him to ruin- didn’t he remember that it was the people’s fault that he became corrupted? Why would he offer them a second chance to hurt him? At least his variant already accepted that. He knew that people were not worth trusting, or worthy of second chances. It was too bad, really, that his variant wasn’t allowed to interact with Shatter. They weren’t even allowed to live in the same city, or chat online, or even travel because of the remote possibility that they might find a way to plot together.

The Multiversal Guardians were, in some aspects, intelligent to keep them from interacting. Both he and Nightmare likely wanted to take advantage of their new positions in the Multiverse and bring chaos to every living being. However, they were only delaying the inevitable. Shatter was only staying complacent until the right moment presented itself. Their attempts to keep the corrupted spirits apart would only compel them to seek each other with more enthusiasm. Considering all the odds stacked against him, he supposed it would be awhile before any sort of opening appeared- he didn’t even know what that would look like- but it would come. He would know when it was happening. But Shattered Dream hated being patient. Waiting was letting his enemies become more secure, and they very quickly built the confidence to boss him around.

Here he was, sitting in an office that made him feel domesticated and weak, awaiting a new job that would never come. Shatter hated it. He couldn’t even inspire fear in his co-workers. No, he was ordered to work as far from any personnel as possible, filing paperwork for some business that he didn’t even know the name of. They liked to keep him in the dark about everything. The less he knew, the less likely he was to use information against anyone, right? Frustratingly, it was effective. And it was driving him insane. Shatter wanted to crawl home and bust a hole in the wall, but then he’d have to pay for that to be repaired. Creators forbid he ever damage rented property.

He couldn’t wait to get out of this awful place. He wanted to march out right now, grab Nightmare by the collar of his purple jacket, and drag him to some far-flung universe so he could knock some sense into him. This was all just a stupid, time-consuming mistake that would only make opening his idiot brother’s eyes a lot more difficult. Hopefully, he hadn’t already gone and made “friends”. The fool was going to get himself knifed sometime if he kept this up- trusting these people was a death sentence.

A sudden wave of dissatisfaction swept over him. Shatter didn’t necessarily love his brother, but he did find it concerning... Would Nightmare’s corruption still protect him if he let his guard down? Would his instincts be enough? Would that corruption take over, even if it meant harming someone he thought of as a friend? From what Shatter could remember, his brother never shifted to protect himself in any of their battles. Perhaps it was an issue of trust: Nightmare didn’t believe Shatter had it in him to kill him. This was only partially true, since Shatter was not afraid to give him a good throttling for being stupid. But if he felt this way about someone else...? He wouldn’t have that. No, Shatter was going to find some way to protect his insane twin, even if he was trapped in paperwork hell.

A pen dropped off his desk as he shifted backwards a bit, stretching his stiff shoulders. He thought with delight about impossible scenarios where he and his brother wrought chaos upon the world after reconciling over a game of cards. He often found himself daydreaming such things. There was no realism in most of this, but he let the thoughts sweep away his troubles. It was much easier for him to detach from reality than to create elaborate plots, which was where he and Nightmare differed. Shatter ran with the first idea that came to mind, usually, while Nightmare would carefully plan out when he would strike. Oh, the misery they could cause, if only Nightmare would cooperate!

The sound of footsteps alerted him immediately to the approach of an unknown threat. Shatter jolted upright in his chair, tentacles raised slightly to appear threatening. The bland gray door offered him a blurry view of his new enemy through its foggy crystal window. He only relaxed in a minuscule level when the door opened, revealing a wiry little man in a formal suit and tie with his hair parted down the middle. He was holding a file in his hands, bearing some sort of neutral expression of boredom on his face. Shatter arched a browbone at him, his dangerous and near-murderous gaze encouraging the intruder to explain himself.

“The board sent word that you’re position is to remain unchanged,” the vanilla office man said in a nasally voice. “They sent you some papers- something about the orders of the Guardians, or something like that.” He waved his hand dismissively- a movement that caused Shatter to tense. He gave the paperwork a scowl, and raised his tentacles a bit higher.

“Why didn’t they send word themselves? Or are they too scared to say it to my face they don’t want me around?” Shatter spat, standing abruptly. The employee didn’t look impressed. Mild amusement flickered across his wrinkled face for a brief moment.

“They don’t fear you in the slightest. The board doesn’t have time for their ‘waste of resources’. You’ll see in the message.” For a moment, he could almost detect pity in the man’s aura, which irritated him to no end. “Tough luck, bud.” He exchanged the papers into the hands of the frustrated mass of goop and then fled the scene, presumably to avoid facing the wrath of a very, very enraged Shatter. He snapped his gaze down to the papers in his hands, tempted to shred them to a thousand pieces. Instead, he settled with shredding them after reading their contents. Perhaps there was information within them that would offer him leverage against his lazy employers.

Shatter sat back down on his office chair, the heaviness of his frustration bringing him down. His eye grew bright with anger as he skimmed the first page. It looked very formal, with pleasant lettering and important statements highlighted in bold. A scoff escaped his clenched jaw at the words, “We are sorry to inform you...”. Right. Like they actually regretted forcing him to keep working in a box beneath the actual office building where the actual important work happened. He skimmed most of the apology and it’s flowery reasons, instead flipping to the page that could essentially be labeled “unnecessary threats and reasons to not murder us”.

“As you are a special case, we have consulted the Guardian Circle and have received strict orders to be relayed to you, Shatter (Dream). Should you disregard any of their orders, we are required by law to report your behavior to the Supreme Guard.

“Over all else, do not harm, threaten, or coerce any of the staff in any way, for any reason. This rule has not changed, and breaking it will lead to immediate strike and relocation.

“Your position is to be taken seriously. Damage to any public or company property, resources, or information will lead to a strike.

“Attempting to quit without notice is hazardous and will lead to a strike. Notification in any form is acceptable, so long as it reaches a board director at least an hour in advance to quitting.

“A note from Frisk (who has requested to be referred to as ‘just Frisk’):Shatter, we are aware that you are unhappy with your position, and we (The Guardian Circle) are working hard to find a more suitable location for your employment. I personally apologize for the state of your employment, living, and care. I understand that you are frustrated, and you may be tempted to act because of this. Consider this a request from a friend who is concerned for your wellbeing: please, continue to be patient with your current environment. It isn’t a healthy set up, and you can be certain that it is not forever. Best wishes, Frisk.”

Shatter skipped the rest of the paperwork- it was mostly legal terms, and he was too mentally fried to care whatever it was they had legally bound him to. So Core Frisk wanted him to be patient? To roll over and keep filing unimportant paperwork in a cramped hell box? What next? Was he supposed to start eating dog food (which honestly wasn’t much worse than the canned food he currently dined upon), wearing trashbags to hide his appearance, and go by the name “Anonymous Goop-guy”? If he couldn’t talk to his brother anymore without a babysitter, then couldn’t they at least allow him to make some sort of a life for himself? Not that he really wanted to, but it would be better than living like an indentured servant. At least then, Nightmare would actually want to visit him- not simply out of obligation.

He grumbled and shoved the papers into the drawer beneath his desk, leaving inky claw marks on the stained plywood. At the beginning of the year, he had been too confused to lash out due to this kind of treatment. Had he been in his right mind, he would have fought, or at least bargained for a more tolerable arrangement. He had been so bewildered, so concerned for he and Nightmare’s future in the Multiverse, that he hadn’t considered the dangers of allowing anyone to have any form of control over him. Not that he had a lot of options... Had Shatter attempted to attack the Guardians (who were quick to approach him and put a stop to his destruction), they would most certainly have won the fight. Losing a fight to them could mean anything, he knew now. They were merciful most times, but while talking with Nightmare, he got the sense that not a lot of people that stood up against them ended up living free, happy lives. To be frank, Shatter feared what they would do with him if he broke their rules- after all, he wasn’t exactly their favorite person.

Now he was stuck with a crappy job that he never asked for, food that made him want to die, and some ramshackle studio apartment that he couldn’t take more than four steps in. That, and a promise that it wasn’t permanent. Right. Like they were going to let a potential threat walk around freely, living in an upscale complex and working at a classy restaurant for more than minimum wage. He was lucky that they didn’t just imprison him for existing. It was probable that they were confident in their ability to handle dangerous individuals, which was the reason they allowed him some phantom sense of freedom. It was also probable that the Guardians were already prepared to lock him up if he presented a reason for them to. Shatter came to a rough, unhappy conclusion that he didn’t want to push his luck. He didn’t know enough about the world he was in, who was running it, or how to get out of it without getting caught or killed in the process to dare attempt any plot for escape.

Feeling cooped up and itchy, his eyes fell on the can again the edge of his desk, filled with a few pencils and a pen he stole from Jane-the-receptionist. Shatter gave it a skeptical glare before drawing back a tentacle and, with as much force as he could muster, throwing the can off the desk. It hit the wall with enough force to crack a hole in the plaster. For a brief, blissful moment, he didn’t think about how he would be punished for damaging property or being needlessly violent. All he thought was how good it felt to create that hole. That was when it hit him, and with just the same amount of force as the can hitting the wall. The lovely sound of paint and plaster splitting, the crash of metal on linoleum floor, and the sensation of pleasure from exerting energy in such a sudden rush- he would never have these without facing some consequence. There was a time when he was feared! When he could do as he pleased, and no one (save for the rare exceptions when Nightmare tried to stop him) could tell him what he could or couldn’t do. Now, he was forced to be a quiet, non-violent entity who relied on others for provisions and itinerary.

Shatter sagged his shoulders and slumped in his chair, holding the offensive tentacle he had used to strike fear into the heart of all aluminum canisters in his hand. He watched with no real fascination as the slimy substance slid around his fingers and dropped onto the desk, further adding to the mess he had created. How long had he been here? How long until he could go “home”? How long would he wait until he could leave this world? Would he ever? Shatter blinked at his reflection, which he could discern vaguely in the shiny mire of his tentacle. He wondered if the defeat that he felt showed on his face, or if he looked at all threatening anymore.

More footsteps were approaching his door, but these were different. Not greatly, but he could tell that they were lighter than human footsteps- or there was a very young human approaching his office, which was unlikely. Nightmare, maybe...? Shatter turned with a glimmer of excitement fluttering in the cavity of his chest. Nightmare hadn’t spoken to him in awhile. To his own surprise, he had come to miss the idiot, despite disagreeing with his actions. Through the glass window of his door, he waited hopefully for the familiar purple blur of his twin, but what he saw instead made his soul still. Ice creeped into his body fast, and he became colder when the door swung open.

The person standing before him was not Nightmare. Fidgeting with the pin of his cloak, said person cast his golden eyes at the floor nervously. “Hi.” He gulped, then the two made eye contact. A sudden flicker of determination filled the eyes of the unwanted visitor. “I need to speak with you.” Dream looked at him in such a way that made it quite clear: Shatter wasn’t going to be getting out of this conversation.

And he knew he was going to hate every second of it.


	2. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream recalls his first encounter with Shatter, and offers Shatter a second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter is in Dream’s POV. I’ll try to remember to add that to the top of future chapters, but I’m too lazy to edit it into the text this time XD) Here’s the next chapter! A quick note: I began writing this mostly for myself, so I’m really sorry if it’s not what you were expecting. Characters may or may not behave the way you expect because they aren’t very canon. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it despite that! I love you all and greatly appreciate every kudos, comment, and view that I get. It really means a lot to me. So thanks, and enjoy!

_The tension in the air had snapped and then built itself up again too fast for the small skeleton to comprehend. He didn’t know how to process any of what happened, much less what was now standing before him. Someone had knelt down next to him and was rubbing his shoulder, but he couldn’t look up. He couldn’t breathe. How...? How was this happening?_

_“Dream, stop! They’ll kill you!” The voice was achingly familiar, and Dream looked up in surprise. But no, they weren’t calling to him. They were talking to... to.... that monster. That being that shouldn’t exist. That couldn’t exist. A variant of himself that had gone too far to help his brother._

_Said variant was trying to fight out of the restraints he had been forced into, his visible eye flashing with anger and confusion. His gaze was torn between Dream and his brother, flickering back and forth wildly. At some point, he finally calmed enough to begin shouting for an explanation. Dream thought through his daze that they at least had something in common. Neither were sure of how to handle seeing an alternate form of themselves._

_Ink stood between the goopy wreck and his companions, paintbrush drawn just in case the threat broke free again. “If you would stop shouting and trying to kill us, I’ll tell you!” He yelled, eyelights shifting shape and color a bit faster than usual. The variant stopped shouting, thank the stars, and gave Ink a dark look. “That’s better. Geez, who’d have thought alternate Dream would be such a pain?! Oh wait, Dream can be a pain, too...” Ink blinked a few times, then shook his head. He launched into an explanation of alternate universes, alternate timelines, and the glorious chaos of the Multiverse._

_Dream stopped listening at some point. He couldn’t help it. No amount of warnings, nor preparation, could ever have eased the pain at seeing his brother again. It was Nightmare- but... but it was the Nightmare he desperately missed. He knew that an alternate timeline in which Nightmare never became corrupted was bound to exist, but... seeing him again was beyond painful. He wasn’t sure when the tears came. He felt the hand on his shoulder wrap around him, and suddenly he was sobbing into the shirt of his companion._

_“It’s alright,” Blue whispered gently, “we’re here for you.” A sudden wave of nausea hit Dream hard, and he took a second to still his spinning vision. “H-how..? How do you... handle it-? Seeing them...?” He asked his friend through choking gasps for air. Blue had to face this far more often than Dream ever did. There were hundreds of Swap universes, and hundreds of his brother. Hundreds of genocide endings that Blue had to watch unfold._

_The optimistic skeleton considered this for a moment, his head tilted to watch Ink spill out his memorized speech. “It’s easier for me. I know that Papyrus- my Papyrus- is alright and everyone in my world is fine. And as long as they’re okay, I’m okay. I don’t like seeing any of them getting hurt, but I remember that it’s not really my friends. It’s just versions that look an awful lot like them. I... I guess it’s really different for you. I’m sorry.” He began to massage Dream’s back in slow, soothing circles._

_Dream tried to get a hold of himself for a minute. His efforts melted away when those lavender eyes met his. They reflected the same aching grief that Dream felt, and even from several yards away, he could see the glassy shimmer of tears building in the other’s sockets. Nightmare looked between his own brother and the alternate, as if deciding how he wanted to respond. Eventually, he forced a very pained smile and waved shyly to Dream._

_His heart might have cracked into a million pieces if this wasn’t what he had wanted for so, so long. A friendly encounter with his brother (although it wasn’t his actual brother)._

_The corrupted Dream (there was no doubt he was corrupted) sat up and pointed his gaze at Dream. “So you’re telling me that there’s some version of myself that gave up on Nightmare? And I’m just supposed to be okay with that?” He glared at Ink again. “And, you plan on rehabilitating me so that I’ll be like him?”_

_Ink smiled. “Actually, you’re a version of him. And it’s really not as bad as you think. You’ll be in a universe where you can meet thousands of people, all from different universes across the Multiverse. It’ll be fun! But! You kind of have to listen to what we tell you, because the balance is still a bit off. Oooor... Dunno, you can just stay in the void for an eternity, if you’d rather slowly lose your mind instead. Your choice!”_

_Sobered by the threat of permanent imprisonment and insanity, Other Dream’s attitude and fight completely left him. He looked at his variant of Nightmare, his aura shifting in so many ways that it disoriented Dream. “What do you plan on doing?” He sounded genuinely interested- maybe even concerned?_

_Nightmare picked at his sleeves, tugging his cloak further down around him. “I... I would like to try again at a normal life. I know what you think about that, you don’t have to tell me. But...” he hesitated, his expression sad. “I know that our lives are never going to be the same. I- I just want what’s best. Please. Haven’t we both suffered enough?”_

_Alternate Dream scowled at every other person near him, then tilted his head at his brother. “Of course we have suffered, but they haven’t. Why should we try to live according to their rules? They’re the ones that hurt you! They all made your life miserable! Why would you want to trust them again?”_

_Nightmare had been listening calmly to these arguments. His eyes were fixed on the ground in front of him, like the grass was the only thing in the Multiverse that bound him to reality. “Dream... I don’t trust them any more than I trust myself. We all made mistakes, myself included. But... now I have a second chance. If I could conquer my corruption, so can you. So can they. I want to try again. What’s the worst that could happen?” He smiled, although it was a fractured smile. “We’ve seen it all now, haven’t we?”_

_Dream watched his variant think for a moment, and then return his hateful glare to Ink. “Fine. I’ll do whatever it is that you want-“ he straightened, attempting to appear more intimidating despite being tied up in an awkward tangle, “-but if any harm, and I mean any harm at all, comes to Nightmare?” He chuckled, insanity glowing in his golden eye. “You will all wish you were never born.”_

_Ink clapped his hands gleefully. “Great! So you’re on board! Of course, I have to keep you like this until I get the OK to free you from Core, but still! I thought it would take at least another hour to convince you!” He turned and smiled at Dream. “Don’t you agree? I mean, he’s a lot like Nightmare- your Nightmare.” He corrected himself, oblivious to the emotional warfare Dream was experiencing._

_“Yeah,” he mumbled in agreement. They were similar, but it had taken weeks to convince Nightmare to accept their terms. Had he not been under the enchantment of Dream’s aura, he likely would have destroyed the entire AU he was held at and murdered everyone. Now, the former Lord of Darkness was living in a small, two bedroom condo in the tropical island sector of the Beta Universe. It was safest for him to be there, since he embarrassingly never learned to swim, preventing him from traveling anywhere he shouldn’t. Dream wondered what they were going to do with this variant of himself, or if he was incapable of swimming too._   
  


_Maybe he and Nightmare had enough in common for friendship?_

~ ~ ~

“I need to speak with you.” Dream held the gaze of the sour office-dweller, mentally preparing himself for a rough conversation. He waited for Shatter to tell him to leave, to curse at him, or something... but he didn’t. The goopy variant stared at him irritably, as though accepting defeat.

He took a deep breath and shut the door behind him, straightening his cloak. Early in the year, he never thought he would be willingly approaching his aggressive counterpart. However, the Guardian Circle felt he was the best suited for the job of handling Shatter, since he understood his way of thinking- mostly. This time... he was approaching him without the encouragement of his allies. This time, he had a really good reason to.

“What do you want to talk to me for?” Shatter growled, sinking lower in his chair. He watched Dream with a wary eye, as though he expected him to shoot him in the heart at any given moment. Dream, using an inner strength he usually reserved for his brother, calmed his nerves and moved to stand next to the desk. He reached into the inner pocket of his cloak and withdrew a messy and half-crumpled scroll, which he laid on the tabletop for Shatter to examine.

“You hate it here,” he stated, clasping his hands together in front of him. Dream watched a familiar glimmer of curiosity slip over the irritated expression of the other, which only increased his sense of confidence. Shatter wasn’t fighting his every word, yet. “You hate living in the environment that you do, working in this awful building, and being treated like garbage. I would too.” Maybe Dream wouldn’t hate it; he was incapable of hate. However, he could understand how painful it must be for his self-image.

“What the hell am I looking at?” Shatter grumbled, squinting at the writing on the paper. Dream blushed, realizing that he couldn’t read the handwriting he had used. ‘ _I should have typed it instead_ ,’ he thought in exasperation. But he didn’t have time to type it out. He had to act as quickly as he could, before anyone could catch wind of his plan and stop him.

“Sorry. Legally, it documents the agreement that I made with the company, the head of the Supreme Guard, and the other heads of staff that needed to be involved. I’m offering you a way out.” Dream held his breath, watching the realization spread across Shatter’s face. At first it was confusion, then excitement, which immediately went back to confusion.

“What sort of arrangement did you make? And what’s the catch?” He asked, his voice low- almost as though he felt they were sharing a very deadly secret. Dream leaned back against the wall, noting the hole that had been punched through it. All of the taxing work, the slow-burn meetings, and forced positivity drained him of his energy, leaving him rather exhausted.

He began to explain what he had arranged. “First, I had to talk about your living arrangement. Of all things, I expressed to Head Guard Undyne that living in such a place was unacceptable and that it needed to be addressed. We mapped out the most secluded- but structurally sound- locations and settled on a neighborhood near the North Border. The only available homes in the area are duplexes, but there are a few with no current inhabitants. You wouldn’t have any neighbors to worry about, at least for a little while.”

Dream took a slow breath, finding the strength to continue. He had put a lot of effort into this- he didn’t want to spoil the offer with poor selection of his words. “Regarding your current job, I found a lot of resistance. The company has stalwartly defended their treatment of you, claiming they have been perfectly reasonable.” He shook his head ruefully. “I highly disagree. Nobody under the care of the Guardian Circle should be forced to accept a paycheck so small. It’s ridiculous. But I digress. With... unique- er- persuasion techniques, I convinced them that the best choice of action would be to let you go.”

Shatter, who had been patiently listening so far, suddenly sat upright in his chair. “You told them to fire me!?”

“No! I mean, kind of, but it’s not like that! This clearly isn’t the right fit for you, so I found a different job.” Dream watched the other relax, feeling his own tension shrink. He wasn’t totally confident, but the fact that he hadn’t gotten stabbed through the chest was a good sign. Now came the hard part: telling Shatter what his new job was going to be. “I... I know it’s not... optimal, but the company I spoke with is willing to offer you a job. It would be a trial run, mostly.” Meaning that, if it didn’t go well, Dream was screwed. “It... requires, well, a whole lot of patience, I’m afraid. It is more of a customer service sort of job.”

Shatter blinked slowly. A smile that had started off small grew wider across his face, until he looked quite pleased with the idea. “You would trust me with customer service? You know, I didn’t realize how insane you actually are. Whatever. Where would I be working?”

Dream tugged at the pin of his cloak, not daring to break their eye contact while also fighting the urge to abort his mission. This was the icing on the cake. The moment of truth, testing Shatter’s unstable level of patience. He sighed, wincing. “A restaurant chain. I- I’m sure that you’ve seen it, or at least heard of it.”

The variant narrowed his eye at him, eyelight dimming to a faint glow. “Don’t tell me that I’m going to work at a McDonald’s. I’d rather die than-“

“Burger King.”

Shatter froze. “What?”

“That’s the restaurant.” Dream paused hesitantly. “It... It sounds bad, I know, but they would be offering a much better pay than this corporation does. That, and the environment isn’t as suffocating. You can refuse if you like, but this is all that I can do for you. The other Guardians would have you remain here for the rest of your life.” His eyes filled with a rare spark of anger. “It is cruel and unjust, which isn’t acceptable from an order so influential. I won’t have it. If you choose to turn down my offer, that’s your choice and I will respect it. But-“ his gaze darkened, “-be aware that things are only going to get worse here. You are right to distrust some of us. I was wrong to place all my faith in the Circle.”

Once he was sure that his message sank in (with Shatter looking quite unnerved), Dream stood straight and let his face soften back into a neutral expression of open kindness. “So, what do you think?”

Shatter gave him a slow look-over, probing for any reason to distrust the smaller skeleton. He seemed to be having an internal argument with himself, glancing from the document to Dream and back. “So,” he clarified, “I would be living on the other side of town, in a house that isn’t full of termites, working at a fast food restaurant for better pay?” He squinted at the page, deciphering the wage despite it being utter chicken-scratch. His frown loosened, giving way to a wicked smile. “Wait. You went behind the Circle’s backs to arrange this?”

Dream squirmed, his aura twisting in guilty knots. “I had to. They wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Besides, everything that I have done is legal- mostly. That’s why I have that document. Everyone involved will have a copy, once it’s signed. If you choose to sign it. And! Head Guard Undyne is technically a part of the Circle! So I have the agreement of at least one other member, which is all a case needs to be approved of. It’s just not... very, uh, formal.” He winced, already knowing the waves of ridicule he was bound to face. It wasn’t ethical, but what else could he do? Let Shatter continue to work himself into an inescapable future of suffering, knowing he did nothing to stop it?

Shatter’s smile was so wide that it reached either side of his face, and he burst into fits of deep, throaty laughter. He gripped at his chest and fell back in his chair, tentacles drooped over the sides like they had lost all their strength. It took him a full two minutes to calm himself. “Oh man,” he chuckled, wiping at a tear that rolled down his cheek, “This is even better than freedom. I think I cracked a rib!” He had almost been wheezing, so that may not have been an exaggeration. “You know? I thought I was going to turn you down on the Burger King deal. But this is too perfect. How could I not participate in a not-entirely-legal offer? And coming from you, no less! I thought you were above crime!”

Dream tilted his head, calmer than he had thought he could be in such a situation. “I am not afraid to commit crimes if it means helping others. Laws are not always enforced with the wellbeing of the people in mind.”

His words seemed to sober Shatter a degree, although he was still smiling. The corrupted variant reached for the pen that he had dropped on the floor, seeming to forget he could have easily reached it with his tentacles. Dream supposed that he really had laughed the strength right out of them. “Just one signature, right?” Without waiting for a reply, he wrote his name on the jagged black line and accidentally dripped a bit of slime onto the page. It luckily only stained the empty space at the bottom of the page.

Shatter handed him back the document with a pleased grin on his face. “Here. Give those morons my regards, I’m leaving.” He stood and stretched, standing a bit too close to Dream for him to feel comfortable. A glimmer of amusement filled the skeleton’s eye. “Let me know how the Circle responds to this deal- I would really appreciate it. I’ll be waiting for the date and address of my new job.”

Dream watched him stroll out of the office, exuding a sort of confidence that only his brother had ever shown. Somehow, after being treated like a lesser civilian, Shatter managed to make it appear like he had planned this all along. Like he still had control over others, and it was only now that he chose to use this control. Dream, however, knew it was all a show. He only behaved that way because he didn’t know how to handle being ordered around. It was fair, though. Dream knew it had to be tough, adapting to this new way of life rather unwillingly.

Clutching the papers to his chest, he felt a renewing wave of optimism lift his heavy soul. Even though he knew they would never really get along, Dream felt a great wave of love for his alternate self. He was happy that, quite possibly, Shatter and Night could have a happy ending. He was happy to be a part of that happy ending. And, no matter what the Circle said, he would fight the Multiverse, the Creators, and anyone else that stood in his way to give them the ending that they deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream and Shatter can (kind of) get along! A remarkable development! A bit of context, though: Dream had been checking in on Shatter ever since they set up a new life for him in the Beta Universe. That’s why they aren’t completely hostile towards each other + Shatter has reached a point of not really caring anymore (so long as no one hurts Night).
> 
> Thank you for reading! I adore comments, and would love to hear y’all’s opinions! It’s alright if you don’t comment, I understand, but y’all really light up my day and I hope y’all know that! Thank you!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ink takes a break and gets punched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling a lot more uncertain about this fic, but here we are, chapter three! I've got a lot of plans for where I want this story to go, but I'm struggling a lot with the fear that no one is going to enjoy it. I hope you enjoy the story!

Soft drops of rain slipped through the fingers of the lone Guardian, rolling down his already cold bones and settling in the crevices between his joints. The sound of steady thrumming on the wet earth filled his non-existent ears, echoing in the empty cavity of his chest. More out of instinct rather than conscious awareness, he rubbed his upper ribcage through his t-shirt, letting his entire form slowly calm.

It was difficult for Ink to sit still for so long. He usually had to take paints to create any sense of calmness. Instead, he was taking his friends’ advice for once, knowing that they wouldn’t let it go until he did. Keeping his mind off the feeling of icy nothingness, he fixed his eyes on the city nearby. It was a Happy Ending AU, with all of the monsters living happy lives on the surface. The city glimmered with light and activity, making the very best of their rainy day. If he focused, he could almost swear that he could smell the faint scent of cinnamon and butterscotch beneath the overwhelming scent of fresh spring rain.

A demanding tug at his consciousness drew him back out of reality. Wasn’t he supposed to be helping Creators right now? Really, he had gotten more than double his normal amount of requests for help in just this hour! Did they think that he was ignoring them? Technically, he was. He had been told by his friends that it was okay to take time for himself, even if that meant ignoring the Creators for just a little while. But... he didn’t want them to think he had forgotten them! After all, they gave him everything that he had! Tilting his head up to the sky, he smiled as wide as he could on his fading paints. “No worries! I promise I’ll help in a little bit!”

A strange feeling of reassurance filled him from head to toe, and he was tempted to drink more of his yellow paint. He really did have the best job in the Multiverse. The Creators could be so understanding sometimes (not always, but they seemed to try hard to be forgiving). With a satisfied sigh, he fell back into the wet grass, soaking his clothes all the way through. He wouldn’t deny that this was pleasant. Usually high-strung and energetic, the guardian never rested for more than a few minutes willingly. Stillness usually meant doing nothing, which meant that he was wasting precious time that could be used for creation. But this was different, somehow. Ink felt a flicker of gratitude and warmth toward the world he sat in, fully recognizing how interesting and amazing it was. He helped create this world. It was difficult to appreciate worlds like these on normal, busy days. Sure, there were thousands of AUs out there that were practically identical to it, but this one was special in little ways.

Ink stretched his stiff limbs, but he didn’t stand. It hadn’t been two hours yet. He promised he would spend at least two hours in a world of his choice without drinking any paints. His artificial emotions only lasted about two hours on a regular dosage anyways, so it served as an internal timer for his convenience. He had written it down on his scarf every here and there as a reminder- he had always been terrible at keeping track of time. It got more difficult when he drank paints at random points in time. He tried to stick to a schedule, with just a drop or two of the necessary emotions when he desired a strong mood change. Now, he was going way past his comfort zone, allowing the colors within him to fade until he felt them only faintly. It was another suggestion that his friends had offered. Maybe it was true: the paints might be putting too much strain on his soulless body.

He had come to rely on these paints physically, not just emotionally. It was usually what kept him going. If he didn’t get any sleep, he would just drink more yellow. In difficult battles, he would drink red paint for the extra strength that he needed to persevere. Dream, one of his closest friends, had told him that this wasn’t healthy. That he shouldn’t be relying on his vials for everything. Truthfully, there were no emotional or mental setbacks that he would face, but his physical form was definitely facing the consequences. His moods had become much sharper, and he had found that no amount of yellow paint could fully awaken his tired limbs. He was becoming desensitized to the effects of his more negative vials.

Weaning himself off of the effects of paints, however, would take time. They were still a necessary part of his life, no matter how detrimental they became to his physical health. He would never go back to feeling nothing. The very thought made him shudder. No, he would simply have to make do with smaller dosages and frequent rest. “You’re ill,” Dream had told him. “If you hurt your leg, you wouldn’t continue putting weight on it, right?” 

“Right, but I can’t walk on one leg,” Ink giggled.

“That’s correct. You can’t walk on a broken leg, but you still need it. Your paints will hurt you if you use them at full dosage, but if you only use a little, your body can heal. Don’t worry about rushing it. I think that you just need time to work yourself out of the cycle you’re in.”

Dream could sometimes surprise him with his advice.

Thinking of his friend fondly made him wonder what he was up to. Dream said he had some important things to deal with, didn’t he? Maybe he was going to visit his brother. Stars, he visited him often. How Dream could put up with Nightmare’s perpetual bad mood was beyond him- someone as emotion sensitive as Dream didn’t usually have that kind of tolerance or patience. Ink, however, was completely immune to the negative aura that the goop-lord dwelled in. He had taken a break from pestering Nightmare because of Dream. He had requested it. The goopy menace must have complained about him for showing up in his pantry looking for cookies. Some habits were hard to break.

Ink thought with a devious smile of the times he would randomly pop into Nightmare’s castle, rooting around for snacks. He never got any snacks though- Horror was fantastic at guarding every grain of food, and it was easy to send him into a silent, icy rage when Ink played with their food. The best thing he had ever done with this precious food was start a fully-fledged food fight. Even Nightmare got dragged into it. They threw anything edible that they could find at each other, breaking any alliances that they might have formed at the beginning of the war. No one relented until all the walls were covered in a thick layer of unrecognizable, mystery substances. Horror got the OK from his boss to break Ink’s spine, so that was when he decided it was time to make a hasty escape. He had started the war, anyway. It took them over a month to clean, and there was always a funny smell in the halls afterwards. One could still faintly detect the scent of roast turkey in the throne room.

Why was he thinking about the food war again? Oh right, Nightmare. He was pretty sure an event like that would never happen again. Nightmare wasn’t allowed to see any of his former gang members, as ordered by the Guardian Circle. It was for the best, he was sure. If they all got together again, it would likely tempt them to return to their old ways. Ink did feel bad, though. Nightmare always seemed so... lifeless. He spent all of his free time sleeping on his couch, and his work attitude was very poor. Dream had said that he was worried Nightmare was losing his will to live. While Ink wasn’t sure about that, he was certain that something strange was up.

He missed how things used to be. Yeah, there wasn’t a lot of destruction anymore, which was good for the Multiverse, but it just wasn’t the same. Where was the action? The peril? His story was gradually becoming boring from both an inside and outside perspective. Dream told him that this was all a good thing, though. The worlds shouldn’t always be under the threat of destruction. Ink agreed, after all, they were worlds that he greatly cherished! But... the Creators were patient, but not that patient. They liked chaos! Danger! The Multiverse was all for their entertainment, and what would they do if it became boring?

They would move on.

Ink shivered at the thought. No, he wouldn’t allow that. Never. As long as he existed, he would continue to inspire and encourage the Creators and their creations. Besides, this Multiverse could still be interesting! Even with the villains calmed, they could still cause trouble. And, if things got really, really bad, Ink could play the part! Yeah! The Creators would love that. With that settled, he relaxed again and laid his hands on top of his ribcage. The rain had almost stopped, but it left a hazy mist in the air that hung low to the ground. Moisture clung to every surface, but it was especially attracted to Ink’s soft clothing. It wasn’t his usual outfit- his friends convinced him to dress more comfortably. More inconspicuously...? He didn’t think his old outfit was uncomfortable; it was the most freeing outfit he could have ever put together. Not that t-shirts and slacks were bad. He only wished the clothing didn’t absorb every drop of rain within ten feet of him.

A bright flash of light announced the arrival of the person that Ink hadn’t expected to interrupt his break. Dream stood looking rather embarrassed and anxious, his golden eyes unwilling to meet Ink’s stare. Ink, however, didn’t mind that this break had been interrupted. In fact, he was happy for the distraction. He could feel the sludge of nothingness and emptiness creeping up on him, and some company gave him a much-needed boost of reassurance. Dream wouldn’t let him forget to take his paints at the right moment.

“I’m sorry for showing up. I didn’t want to interrupt...” Dream stood awkwardly, his boots working a soggy crevice in the grass of the hill. Ink shook his head, patting the grass next to him. “Nah, don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t interrupt unless you had a good reason.” Gratitude and relief lit up the eyes of the other skeleton, and he promptly plopped himself next to Ink. A curious yellow gaze was directed toward him, previous anxiety long forgotten. 

“You seem... really relaxed. I take it that your mini vacation has been successful?”

Ink shrugged, indifferent. “I guess. It might be the paints wearing off. What time is it?” And when did he come here? It was difficult to keep track of time sometimes.

Dream blinked, checking the wristwatch he had recently acquired. “Ohmygosh! It’s 7:15! You didn’t take any since you came here, did you?”

That was weird. 7:15? Didn’t he leave at... 4:50? Wasn’t that the time he last remembered? He frowned, his mind frying at the strain of thinking so hard. “I haven’t taken any yet. Not since I left. Wha-“ Dream was already reaching for his sash, a concerned expression on his face. “Why? I feel fine- maybe not as normal as before, but not empty. The paints are still in my system.” He pushed away the yellow vial that was extended toward his face, waving away Dream’s concern.

“You’ve been here for four hours! That’s double the duration of time that your paint lasts! Are you sure you didn’t take any more?” The Guardian of Positivity hovered over him, urging Ink to sit up and look at him face to face.

“I didn’t take any paints.” His expression was serious despite the constant shifting of his eyelights. “I would remember that. I guess I didn’t calculate the time right, or maybe the duration is longer in some worlds.” He softened a bit, accepting the vial that was offered to him once more. “Though, it probably wouldn’t hurt to drink a little. I can feel the paints wearing off- they’re still there, but they aren’t as vibrant as before.” Ink took a meaningful sip of the yellow paint, and the effect was almost immediate. A surge of energy rushed through him, and he laughed for no clear reason.

“I still don’t like any of this...” Dream sighed, handing him the vials one by one, just like their old routine. He hadn’t done this in years. “Why are the paints suddenly unpredictable? They were always the same... but I guess you aren’t the same.” He looked unsatisfied with the answer he was elaborating on. “Your physical tolerance for paint has changed a lot. So it could be that...”

Ink shrugged, slipping all of the vials back into his sash. “It is what it is. I can’t die permanently anyway, so there’s really no reason for you to worry!” He grinned wolfishly, tilting his head to pointedly catch his friend’s attention. “But you didn’t come here to check on me, did you? If you did, you would’ve checked up two hours ago. So what did you actually come to me for?”

There it was. That anxiety that had been dancing all across Dream’s features when he first teleported on the hillside. Around most others, the guardian would try to hide his emotions and play it cool, but Dream looked like a mess in front of Ink. It was an interesting behavior that the artist didn’t understand. Ink already made it clear that he could easily swap sides and betray Dream’s trust, but Dream never minded. He wore his emotions plain for Ink to see.

“Y-yeah. There’s that. I- I wanted to tell you what I did, before it- uh- gets out of hand.” Dream restlessly wrung the edge of his cloak in his hands, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I committed a crime against the Circle,” he blurted.

Ink almost threw up from surprise. He flopped backward and burst into hysterical laughter.

“Why are you laughing!? It’s not funny!” Dream wailed, shrinking in despair.

Somehow regaining a bit of control over his wild hysteria, the artist let out a wheezing chuckle. “It kind of is. Who did you kill?” Almost immediately, the angry ball of positivity punched him in the shoulder.

“No one, you jerk! I broke the relocation rule with a High-Risk case! Positivity! I want positivity, not murder!” Dream hollered, glaring at him intensely. Ink clutched at his shoulder, more laughter bubbling within.

“Geez, you’re pretty upset about it. Wait, High-Risk case? Don’t we have, like, seven in total? Waaaaait, where did you move Nightmare?” Ink was joking, but Dream only sniffled and wiped at his eyes. 

“Not Nightmare, I wouldn’t be able to get away with that.” The smaller skeleton had somehow become pathetically small, his knees drawn tightly to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. “Believe me, I wish I could help him. He’s always so sad... but I can’t. He would get into so much trouble, and I? The Circle would probably remove me from the order, at best.”

Ink disagreed; most of the Guardian Circle loved Dream, and they were fully capable of forgiving him. But that wasn’t the focus of his interest. “So, who did you relocate? The Creators even seem surprised!” And he wasn’t lying- quite a few seemed stunned.

Dream looked away, staring down at the city below. They sat like they for awhile, in silence, with Ink progressively becoming certain that he wasn’t going to get an answer. The rain had completely stopped by now, and the mist had fully settled on the ground. Overhead, a bit of cloud cover shifted just enough for a brilliant orange orange sky to be revealed. It must be sunset. Truthfully, it felt nice to be hanging out with his best friend again, and the sunset only tightened that feeling of familiarity. Ink missed when they would hang out like this- even if this wasn’t quite the same. It likely wasn’t going to happen much in the future, either. But! That didn’t matter, because it was the moment that mattered most!

“I talked with the head of the Supreme Guard. Undyne told me that the relocation isn’t as dangerous as the Circle makes it sound... and I agree. It’s... it’s not so bad, b-because. Well. It’s Shatter.” Dream paused, letting the words sink into the artist’s head. Shatter. As in, Shattered Dream. The alternate variant of Dream, but aggressive and murder-y. Dream helped Shatter. The one person in the e n t i r e M u l t i v e r s e that truly hated Dream, with lack of a stronger word for it.

“I- I know you must be wondering why. It’s hard to explain,” the guardian continued, rubbing at his cheeks.. “But... Shatter actually has a chance, you know? He and Night, they’re closer to a happy ending than Nightmare and I. Shatter is actually trying, but we keep setting him up for failure. So... yeah. It’s a bad idea, but the world needs bad ideas sometimes. We can’t know it’ll work if we don’t try.” If Ink wasn’t listening so intently, he wouldn’t have heard him. Dream often spoke softer when he was uncertain or guilty. Considering it was Shatter that they were discussing, this wasn’t a surprise to him.

“Hey. I don’t think it’s a bad idea at all! Weird, maybe, because it isn’t Nightmare you relocated, but! I think it’s cool of you to do that!” Ink found himself becoming a lot more excited as he thought about it. “The Creators hate it when stories go idle! So! No matter how this ends, it’s a good ending! And recovery stories are really hot right now! Aw man, this is really great! The only thing that could make it better is..... huh! Now -that- is an interesting idea!” His eyes lit up as he spoke, running down every possible path that this story could follow. “Oh, right. Don’t worry about the Circle, I can soften them up for you!”

Dream buried his face in his hands, shaking his head. “I should’ve known you’d react like this,” he mumbled. “Please, don’t tell them. I want to be the one to tell them.”

Ink nodded distractedly. He had a very good idea, and he was getting more excited about it by the second. He would need to dig up some information on this relocation first, then he would set his plan in motion. There was no way this could go wrong! “I promise I won’t, you can count on it!” For extra measures, he withdrew a pen from his sash and wrote down the note- which quickly turned into a reminder to enact his devious plot.

“Thank you, Ink. I’m sorry for getting so worked up about it.” Dream smiled at him, standing up to dust the grass off his clothes. “Everything will be alright, I’m certain! Just remember to look into your vial issue.”

Ink agreed, and the two hugged before going their separate ways: one through a portal of light, and the other through a puddle of paint. The ladder, however, forgot most of what he was supposed to be doing, fixated on his new plan. As he helped the Creator that had summoned him, his mind never left the topic of High-Risk cases, and most importantly, relocation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have any questions, or if you have any advice on how to write the characters better, let me know please! I would love to hear y'all's opinions. Have a nice night/day!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hopefully it isn’t a terrible mess! Please let me know what you thought, and if you’re more familiar with ao3, I would happily accept any pointers and guidance. Have a great day!


End file.
